Skin Deep
by the rabid plot bunny
Summary: JA. AU. Obi angst. no slash. rated for suicidal behavior. Obi-Wan wants desperately to be a good padawan, but Qui-Gon seems eternally displeased with him; will Qui-Gon accept him, or will he be crushed under the pressure, and lost to despair?
1. Chapter 1

Hey guys, I usually wouldn't be writing stuff like this, but this plot bunny has been practically ripping out my intestines for the past few days (wow, that's a very strange mental image), and I just really need to get it out of my system so here it goes.

I apologize in advance for any typos sadly I have no beta.

Disclaimer: I do not (and probably never will) own Star Wars or Jedi Apprentice blah, blah, blah don't sue me.

Obi-Wan walked into the quarters he shared with his master Qui-Gon Jinn, and preceded to walk into his room, palming the door shut behind him as he sunk to the floor. As he sat, he reflected on the day that had begun so well, yet, like all the others, had soured as the day unfolded.

This morning he had woken up to the beeping of his alarm clock, and quickly prepared himself for the day. As he walked through the common room towards the small kitchenette to prepare his master and himself something for breakfast, he had been pleasantly surprised to find hid master already there preparing the meal.

Obi-Wan had just taken on the task of setting the table when his master had begun to engage him in conversation. It seemed incredibly strange to him that his Master would talk to him so casually and freely, as he had made a point to distance himself from the boy, ever since they had met.

This continued on throughout breakfast, and Obi-Wan replied to all his master's questions with a 'yes, sir', or 'no sir', and kept his gaze fixed on his food throughout the duration of the meal.

A week ago, he would have jumped at this opportunity to get closer to his master and perhaps bridge the gaping awkwardness of their time together, but his master had made it quite clear that their relationship was strictly student to teacher, and he had eventually stopped trying to gain the older man's trust.

His morning classes had passed without incident, and he spent his lunch with his friends Bant, Reeft, and Garen, who had recently received a master as well.

Bant had talked animatedly about a training incident in the morning's light saber practice, and Reeft and Garen had laughed so much that Reeft had almost choked on a piece of barabel fruit he had been eating. Obi-Wan felt distant, as though he were watching their mirth through someone else's eyes, and only managed an empty smile, as Bant looked his way.

As the meal wore on Garen began to talk about his master, and the things that he had recently mastered, with the help of the training bond. Garen had only been apprenticed for a few weeks, while Obi-Wan had been a padawan for well over two months now, and he had yet to forge a strong training bond with his master, let alone gain the trust, that Garen so obviously had from his master.

After a while, Bant had interrupted to ask, "What about you and Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan?"

To which he had responded, "He is a wonderful teacher," and began eating his food again to the dismay of his comrades.

After lunch and his afternoon classes, he started off to meet with Qui-Gon in the training rooms for saber practice.

He arrived to find his master already waiting for him in the training rooms, and was greeted with a simple "You are late," to which he apologized and then began stretching.

The session began with the more basic katas as a warm up; he slid through the well-learned movements with ease until he caught his master's watchful eye, and faltered in the basic steps that 7-year old should have mastered.

"Why did you stop?" Qui-Gon had asked.

"I-I…don't know, sir" Obi-Wan had stammered, "I suppose I just… lost my focus."

Qui-Gon sighed and began instructing him in more advanced forms. The session had gone on as usual, though Qui-Gon had become increasingly irritated by Obi-Wan's 'careless mistakes'.

Obi-Wan had been relieved when the council had summoned Qui-Gon for one reason or another, and he had been dismissed early.

As he sat, he watched as the clock by his bed flashed 2:25, five minutes until his next class, he walked over to his dresser, and opened the top drawer.

He dug down to the bottom of the drawer, and then carefully unfolded the tunic there. As he did this, a small knife fell out from the folds into Obi-Wan's already outstretched hand.

He wasn't sure how long ago it was, when he first began cutting himself, but he didn't plan on stopping soon.

He rolled up his sleeve, and ran his fingers along the patterns that had been engraved in his skin, and allowed his nails to bite into the still tender flesh of his forearm.

At first, he had only made small cuts along his wrist, but as time went on, he had become more violent and had cut progressively deeper and longer slashes across his skin. Now both arms were a maze of criss-crossed lines and words spelled out in anger and blood.

'Why are you so weak' Obi-Wan thought, 'no wonder he doesn't want you,' the knife dragged across his skin, 'no wonder you can't be good enough, no wonder he distances himself from you.'

He watched as the blood pooled around the cuts he had made, and then wiped away the crimson liquid to reveal 'FAILURE' written in fresh red marks over the rest of his scars.

He looked up to see the clock switch from 2:29 to 2:30, signaling the beginning of his next class, but he didn't care.

'No matter what you do you won't be good enough' he thought as he began dragging the knife over his flesh once again, 'you will never be able to live up to his standards, if you can't even learn to control your emotions, if you can't even —' he gasped as the knife pressed harder into his flesh and reopened old wounds that had never been allowed to heal.

He paused and allowed the pain to wash over him in waves, his body begging for him to stop. Then he began again.

'No one cares, your teachers have probably not even noticed your absence, your friends don't want you, your master…' he pressed harder and was rewarded with a tidal wave of pain, as he drew the knife along his skin, 'your master would be happy to be rid of you, happy to be rid of the clumsy, stupid padawan that he only took out of pity.'

The strokes became progressively more violent as his train of thought continued, 'no one would care if you died.' The thought was a new one, never before had he thought of his death, especially at his own hands and as he grasped the knife again in his bloody fingers, one last thought flashed through his mind

'Nobody will cry at your funeral.'

So, what did you think?

Please review

I'd love to hear your feedback

If I get enough positive feedback I might continue writing this, but for now it is a oneshot.


	2. Chapter 2

_Hello again, I know that it has been years since I touched this story, but whaddayaknow, another chapter. Obviously there will be differences in writing style from the first chapter because of the long hiatus, and this chapter is much more focused on Qui-Gon, though that won't continue to be the norm. I hope that despite any differences you will enjoy it (and whether or not you do, leave a review ;D). Thanks._

Qui-Gon sighed to himself as he walked down the hallway of the Temple, his arms folded in he sleeves of his robe. His meeting with the council had been brief, they had just wanted to update him on the state of affairs on a planet where he had recently conducted negotiations; it seemed that the peaceful agreement they had sought had been overly ambitious, he would need to return soon to keep the situation from escalating.

He couldn't for the life of him understand what had went wrong in today's lightsaber practice with Obi-Wan. He had no idea whether he was overworking Obi-Wan and that exhaustion was the cause of his sloppiness, or whether it was the opposite, and he needed to drill the boy more on the basics. Either way, Qui-Gon couldn't help but think that Obi-Wan's technique had in fact degenerated in he past month.

Qui-Gon wished he had been able to see Obi-Wan in his saber classes as an initiate, as any master would have in normal circumstances, that way he would be able to better guage his learning style from a more distanced, and therefore less biased perspactive. However his master-padawan relationship with Obi-Wan had been formed in anything but normal circumstances.

He couldn't deny that the Force had willed him to become Obi-Wan's master, but he couldn't understand why. Why him, and why so soon after his utter failure and loss of Xanatos? Xanatos who never seemed to miss a beat in saber training, and was never as strained or awkward in his forms, as Obi-Wan was now. Xanatos, whose good graces had masked such darkness...

It still hurt to remember Xanatos; he would never get over his betrayal. It was not only the moment when Xanatos fell to the dark side and left the Temple that was poisoned and darkened in Qui-Gon's mind, it was Xanatos' entire apprenticeship.

From he moment that Qui-Gon met him, he thought he had seen something in the then young boy, but now, he couldn't help anger and grief from boiling up in his chest when he though of him. When was it that Xanatos began to act, as in a play, showing Qui-Gon only what he knew Qui-Gon wanted to see? There were so many carefully crafted lies there, so that Qui-Gon didn't know if there had ever been anything genuine in Xanatos, or in the bond he thought they had shared.

Qui-Gon was so lost in thought that he only realized that he had reached his destination after he had been facing the door for a few moments. He knew meditation would help him to clear his racing mind. He palmed open the door and stepped into the meditation room where he was not surprised to see Yoda, sitting in his habitual spot meditating, eyes lightly closed.

"Felt you I did, before you arrived" Yoda said, not moving from his seated position nor opening his eyes, "Thinking of your former apprentice you were."

Though it was a statement, not a question, Qui-Gon knew that Yoda expected him to respond, yet he was not sure exactly what the master expected him to say. Qui-Gon remained standing, taking a step toward the old Jedi master.

"Yes," Qui-Gon responded, "Obi-Wan is having trouble in our saber lessons, and I was trying to review how I taught my former padawan, as he had no troubles with basic form."

"Hmm, dwelling on old pains, not facing present problems you were," Yoda said, as he opened his eyes and rose from his seated position, leaning forward onto his gimmer stick, "Not the same Obi-Wan and Xanatos are. Hmm?"

Yoda scrutinized Qui-Gon expectantly, awaiting his response. Qui-Gon wanted to deny that he had simply been wallowing in the past, and that he was merely reviewing his old teaching methods, however he realized hat that would be pure fiction. Despite the many painful meditation sessions he had spent on the fall of Xanatos, his thoughts still slipped back to that place sometimes.

"I know that they are not," Qui-Gon said, conceding to Yoda, "But that does not mean that Obi-Wan does not have the potential for darkness."

Qui-Gon moved past Yoda, farther into the room, and settled into a cross-legged position. Yoda followed his lead, and sat down beside him, looking serious.

"Deeper problems than light-saber training between you and Obi-Wan I sense," he said, "Masters and padawans we have for a reason; teach him you must, know him you must. Nurture your bond in the force, you should, if succeed Kenobi will."

"I understand," Qui-Gon said, as he slipped into a light meditative state. He let his breathing slow, and turned within himself, analyzing his thoughts and the events of the day. He could feel Yoda's strong, tranquil force signature beside him as he slipped into a deeper meditation.

The time always seemed to pass too quickly when Qui-Gon meditated. He could easily meditate for hours on end, and would perhaps meditate for days at a time if he did not have other duties to attend to in the Temple. Qui-Gon, though he was considered to be a maverick in many ways, was not one to be late, so he very rarely let himself enter a deep meditation if he had duties to attend to, for fear of losing track of time. Today, however, a refreshingly deep meditation seemed much more important than being on time to his planned force exercises with Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon found it extremely strange when, only 10 minutes into his meditation, he found that he had a strong urge to stretch and that his left leg was beginning to cramp. He continued breathing deeply, and tried once again to go deeper into his trance, but when his mind would simply not cooperate, he gave in to his body, shifting into a kneeling position.

Five minutes later, he found that he still could not sink comfortably into a deep trance; he knew that he could force it if he wished, but he felt as though there must be some reason for his inability to meditate, though he did not know what.

Qui-Gon continued to kneel on the floor of the meditation chamber, feeling the force flow around him in currents.

It did not seem as calm as it had earlier.

He furrowed his brow, trying to focus on the cause of the turbulence around him. He knew that it wasn't coming from himself; though he had been stressed, he had his shields up, and though Yoda, who always seemed to bring peace to the force around him had left the room, there was no way that his absence would have caused this tense, anxious trembling of the force.

After a moment, Qui-Gon felt where it was coming from: his bond with Obi-Wan. Though it was true that their bond was new, Qui-Gon knew that it was undeniably underdeveloped compared to where it should have been. Nevertheless, Qui-Gon felt muted turmoil emanating from the bond.

'Well, that explains why I wasn't able to meditate I suppose,' Qui-Gon thought to himself. Qui-Gon glanced at his chrono; it was just about 3:00, which meant that Obi-Wan was still in class. If Qui-Gon's memory was correct, it was Historical Interplanetary Relations, and important, but not overly challenging class.

He wondered what could possibly be causing Obi-Wan enough stress to be broadcasting though their weak bond this intensely. There was no way it was simply that he had been unprepared, perhaps he had pulled a muscle during their practice? No, surely he would have noticed if that had been the case.

Qui-Gon didn't really understand what the bond was telling him, but he headed off in the direction of Obi-Wan's classroom all the same. Yoda was definitely right about their bond, if he couldn't even decipher emotion through the bond, they would never be able to adequately communicate on a mission.

He walked through the halls calmly yet slightly agitated that the turbulence coming from his bond was intensifying. Sighing to himself, he tentatively reached out to the bond with his mind as he walked. He probed at it and tried to portray his confusion to Obi-Wan (if only their bond was more developed, he could have sent a word or a sentence). But despite his efforts, there was no sign of a response or an attempted response.

Qui-Gon began to worry. He couldn't fathom what was happening. He began to walk more quickly towards the lift, which would take him to the level where classes were held. He all but dropped his mental shields to their bond, and winced slightly at the vulnerability he felt; before Xanatos he had not put up shields like these, but ever since the betrayal, he had gotten used to the security of tight defenses and the quasi-isolation and silence that came with it.

He should have been able to clearly feel Obi-Wan's presence, but he could not; Obi-Wan seemed to have put shields up at his end of their bond as well. Qui-Gon winced at that, it wasn't normal for a padawan to block off their master, though he knew that it was due to his poor example.

Qui-Gon gave up on feeling Obi-Wan through the bond, and simply kept going, entering the lift at the end of the hallway; he was going to have to have a serious talk with Obi-Wan about all of this, though he wasn't sure what he would do or say.

The lift doors closed, and Qui-Gon reached out to press the button for level 9, where Obi-Wan would be, in class, but something didn't feel right. He paused, but pushed it anyway. The lift sped along, but stopped at level 11, where a young knight got on, bowing his head respectfully to Qui-Gon as he entered. Qui-Gon felt antsy. Level 11 was where his and Obi-Wan's quarters were, perhaps Obi-Wan had never been to class at all?

Qui-Gon started to feel indignant and stern at that thought, but the general sense of unease began to overwhelm him. Could feel the force churn as he neared their quarters, walking quite briskly now, almost running. Something was wrong, even if he wanted to deny it.

When their door came into view, Qui-Gon was even more confused. It was silly, but something about Obi-Wan's force signature wasn't right. He ran towards the door. He could feel that Obi-Wan was there, but somehow, it was as if he was not there either.

As he entered their quarters, panic began to set in. He had been a field agent and this was a familiar feeling on the battlefield, but he didn't understand what place it had now, in the Temple, as if Obi-Wan was fading.

"Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon said carefully as the door slid shut, "Padawan?"

Adrenaline was running through his veins as he walked towards the door to Obi-Wan's room. Something was wrong, so, so wrong. Qui-Gon stepped up to the door, pressing his ear against it, listening for some intruder, but heard nothing. He was afraid to reach out with the force and see what was inside, so instead, he put his hand on his weapon, and threw open the door with a force push.

He saw Obi-Wan crumpled face down on the floor. And… blood?

'Could there have been an intruder?' He thought to himself, terrified at the thought of someone being able to penetrate the Temple, but after on quick force sweep of the room, he realized that that was not the case. He flew to Obi-Wan's side, and dropped down to kneel next to him.

There were no foreign force-signatures in the room, but Obi-Wan's was horribly weak.

Qui-Gon felt for Obi-Wan's pulse at his neck. It was weak. He gingerly turned Obi-Wan's body over. Obi-Wan's right arm was clutched to his chest, but his left arm fell off to his side.

Qui-Gon gasped.

There was so much blood. So much. And the source was all too obvious.

However panicked Qui-Gon had been before, it had now increased exponentially. He wanted to stop the flow, but was almost afraid to touch Obi-Wan's wounds.

There were angry jagged lines that went from the base of his palm all the way up until they disappeared into his sleeve. Some were pink, tender and almost closed, and others were still dripping, a red-brown crust forming from Obi-Wan's drying life-blood, gluing the raw skin to the soiled sleeve of his robes.

Qui-Gon quickly grabbed the clean tunic that lay next to Obi-Wan on the floor, ripping off a strip of fabric, and tightly wrapping it around Obi-Wan's left arm, all the way up to the bloodstained sleeve, but the cuts did not end there. He could tell that they continued above his elbow, but was afraid to pull away the fabric of his tunic for fear of reopening them.

This was horrible. Gruesome even. How could he have….?

Qui-Gon had unconsciously reached to grasp Obi-Wan's right hand, and his heart jumped in his chest to find that it was damp.

It couldn't be.

Qui-Gon pulled Obi-Wan's unresponsive wrist towards himself and pulled up the sleeve, wanting so badly for the skin to be unmarred, but to no avail. His right arm was as severely wounded as his left, and bleeding anew from Qui-Gon's violent removal of the sleeve, which had stuck to it.

"Oh, Force," Qui-Gon said to himself, ripping another bandage from the clean tunic, and then another, wrapping Obi-Wan's arm tightly, and tying a knot with a tug.

Qui-Gon couldn't believe it, how could this be happening? How could he have let this happen and not have known?

"Oh, Force," he repeated to himself, utterly shocked, as he got up, and took out his comlink.

" This is Qui-Gon Jinn, and I need an emergency medical team in my quarters immediately."

"Master Jinn, what's the nature of the situation? Are you in any danger?" a medic's voice responded through the comlink.

"No," Qui-Gon responded, "It's my padawan… blood…"

He trailed off. The medic responded, but Qui-Gon did not hear him. Qui-Gon had no idea what to do. He could only stand, comlink in his hand, staring down at his padawan, who was lying on the floor, bleeding.

_Too long? Love it? Hate it? I won't know unless you tell me! (Review please.)_


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks so much to everyone who read and reviewed; you really make my day!

* * *

Qui-Gon remained frozen in place; there was really nothing that he could do, was there? He had bandaged Obi-Wan's wounds and stopped the bleeding, but he was no healer.

The healers arrived, seemingly in a blur. As two healers, one young Mon Calamari and a slightly older human leaned down to examine Obi-Wan, the third turned to Qui-Gon, attempting to question him about what had occurred.

"Master Jinn, what happened here?" he said, looking back from Obi-Wan's body to Qui-Gon nervously, obviously not wanting to jump to any conclusion about the situation. When Qui-Gon didn't respond, the healer stepped up to him, saying, more softly now "Master Jinn, are you alright?"

He got out a small light, shining it into Qui-Gon's left then right eye, searching for some sign of trauma. Finding none, he lifted his hand letting it lightly hover above to the Master's forehead, as he lightly probed the Master's aura, looking for a clue as to what had gone on; they needed to treat this padawan to the best of their abilities, which required knowledge of his situation.

The healer was surprised to find that the Master's shields were almost completely down. He had just barely brushed against the edge of Qui-Gon's mind, feeling the confusion and panic, when surprisingly strong shields suddenly slammed down around his mind, and Qui-Gon pulled away from the healer's hand.

"I don't know what happened," Qui-Gon responded immediately, the mental contact having shaken him out of his shock, "He was here when I arrived."

The healer seemed about to prod Qui-Gon further, demanding more information, but just then, the other two healers finished moving Obi-Wan onto a stretcher.

"He's lost a lot of blood," the Mon Calamari said, keeping a hand on Obi-Wan's wrist to monitor his pulse, "his pulse is there but it's slowing down, we need to contact the medcenter and have them prepare a blood infusion; human, type-unknown. We need O-negative, unless we can access his files asap."

The healers sped though the hallways with practiced ease, guiding the stretcher on which Obi-Wan lay. Qui-Gon followed behind them, his mind whirring, only half aware of their constant medical banter. It occurred to Qui-Gon that they were racing against death, and his stomach churned; how could this have happened? Just an hour ago, everything was fine.

When they arrived at the medcenter, they were greeted by more healers armed with IVs, bacta, and datapads. Qui-Gon stayed by the door, as they swarmed the stretcher, and fell into a chair when they left the entrance hall, moving Obi-Wan into intensive care.

Qui-Gon cradled his head in his hands. What in the Force's name was going on? Whatever could he do, and more painfully, what had he done?

What? What, could have possibly driven Obi-Wan to doing what he had done? The cuts in his arms had been extensive, but what was more horrifying was how violent they had been, how deep, how brutal.

From the look he had gotten at Obi-Wan's arms before he had hastily bandaged them, he couldn't tell how long this had been going on. It could have been a gradual buildup over time, or a newly developed but vicious habit, and Qui-Gon wasn't sure which scared him more.

Qui-Gon knew that young knights often buckled under the tension of their duties, but it was uncommon; Jedi were trained from birth, prepared from birth for their duties. The very first line of the Jedi Code, _"there is no emotion, there is peace"_ was taught to all younglings; Qui-Gon had never heard of such an inexplicable breakdown occurring in a padawan.

"Force, what have I done," Qui-Gon muttered into his hands, then moving them to his temples. He looked back to their bond, feeling it tentatively. Obi-Wan's shields had fallen completely. Qui-Gon could tell that he was still out cold and could feel only weak tendril of the force through their bond. At least that was better than nothing.

When no healers or aids came out to speak to Qui-Gon in the next few minutes, he decided that he should meditate. There was no way that he would be able to get through the rest of the day if his mind stayed in the chaotic state that it was in. He took a few calming breaths, straightened his posture and began sifting through the events of the day.

* * *

As Qui-Gon meditated, the healers worked frantically to save Obi-Wan; it was good that Qui-Gon had found him when he had, even a few more minutes could have made it impossible to revive the young padawan.

They had given him a transfusion, and were re-hydrating his body with an IV, but his heart had spent the last hour struggling to pump at nothing, and the healers hadn't been sure whether or not they could get it to settle into a normal, healthy rhythm again. To everyone's relief, he was slowly stabilizing.

"Good job, everyone," said the lead healer, an elderly-looking Twi'lek, "Bindo and Allie, I know that you have rounds, everyone else, I need someone to monitor his vitals, and someone to summon Master Yoda, and brief Master Jinn while I check for any brain damage."

Two young healers eagerly volunteered, and went about their tasks while the Twi'lek pulled up a chair next to Obi-Wan's bed, and took a deep breath. He raised his hands , setting one gently on Obi-Wan's forehead and the other on his cheek, and began to examine him; sending light pulses of the force through his hands to wash over the padawan.

* * *

What seemed like only moments after slipping into his trance, Qui-Gon was pulled from his light meditation by the voice of a young healer. He glanced down at his chrono, surprised at how much time had actually passed, before giving his attention to the healer.

"Master Jinn, I've been sent to update you on your padawan's condition and am please to say that he has stabilized," said the healer with a tentative smile, hoping that his relief would be reflected in Qui-Gon's countenance as well, "He's had a transfusion, antibiotics for his wounds, and a small dosage of sedatives to keep him from awaking before his body can handle it."

"When will he wake up?" Qui-Gon asked quietly.

"That really depends, the sedative will keep him down for 2 more hours at least, but it could be quite a while after that until he comes to. Though he's not exactly comatose, as we detected no damage to his brain, his body is exhausted."

There was a pause, and Qui-Gon shifted in his chair. He was unsure whether he should go wait by Obi-Wan's bedside until the boy woke up, or go off to get some rest himself.

"Oh, and Master Yoda has been summoned," the healer told Qui-Gon, "He should be arriving shortly."

The healer bowed to Qui-Gon before heading off. Qui-Gon was glad that Yoda had been summoned despite the fact that he would be facinf the master with his mind in such turmoil.

Yoda's earlier exchange with him replayed in his mind. How could the the aged master have so easily perceived the situation, when he himself had been so oblivious to his own padawan? Qui-Gon felt a pang of guilt at that thought.

Qui-Gon had just gotten up from his chair and began lightly stretching his muscles when he felt the master approach. He turned towards the door to the infirmary's entryway, and bowed to Yoda.

"Master Yoda," Qui-Gon said simply, acknowledging him, but not wanting to start the conversation that he knew would follow.

"Qui-Gon," Yoda responded, leaning on his gimmer stick and looking up at the younger Jedi, "Not much did the healers tell me, but troubling this is nonetheless."

"Yes, Master Yoda," Qui-Gon responded, finding that he had nothing to add to the master's statement.

"Failed to see this you did?" asked Yoda, and though it was phrased simply as a question, not at all accusatory, Qui-Gon felt his stomach churn with guilt.

"Yes, Master. I had no idea that this…" he trailed off, "I have failed once more, what kind of master am I that I couldn't see this…" he couldn't bring himself to say what "this" was.

"Hmm," Yoda mumbled and Qui-Gon could feel Yoda examining his though the force, "Clear your mind, you must, for both Obi-Wan and yourself; though rare this is, unheard of in the Jedi Order, it is not. A long process to recovery Obi-Wan will face, and as his master, much you will have to support and open your mind to him."

Qui-Gon was about to respond, but Yoda cut him off saying "Go now you must. To the dining hall to eat, and then go clear your mind through meditation you must before your padawan awakens. Watch over him I will."

Qui-Gon hesitated, but then bowed swiftly to Yoda, murmuring "Thank you, master Yoda," as he headed towards the door. He was grateful that Yoda would be watching over Obi-Wan, giving him time to process the day and steel himself for the process ahead.

This was why he hadn't wanted to take on a padawan; he had his own demons to face, which had obviously kept him from seeing his padawan's own struggles. He knew that he must clear Xanatos from his mind for Obi-Wan's sake, but how could he do that now when he had failed for years?

For a moment he thought glumly that he should step down as the boys Master, but he quickly swatted that though from his mind. That would do nothing to help the boy now, it would only be an easy way out for Qui-Gon himself.

As he entered the dining hall and headed over to grab a tray, he saw a young Mon Calamari girl at a table across the room, her eyes scanning over the hall, searching for something. When she saw Qui-Gon, their eyes met briefly, and her expression quickly changed from searching, to happy, to confused.

Qui-Gon put back down the tray. His stomach had twisted itself into a knot of guilt once again, and he did not think that he could stomach any food at the moment. He turned and left the hall in a hurry. It had never occurred to him that he would have to face Obi-Wan's friends as well.


	4. Chapter 4

Yoda watched Qui-Gon leave and sighed to himself. He had not foreseen complications of this nature when he encourage Qui-Gon to take on the boy as his apprentice. He hobbled across the room, and headed toward the ward where Obi-Wan was currently unconscious.

When Yoda arrived, Healer Omas, the Twi'lek in charge of Obi-Wan's care, was looking over a datapad. He sensed Yoda enter the room, looking up and bowing his head to him in greeting.

"Master Yoda," he said gesturing for Yoda to sit down in a chair next to the bed, "It is good to see that you are well. Thank you for coming; I'm not a mind healer, so I am unsure of what steps to take after his body recovers."

Yoda nodded in response, and pulled himself up into the chair, looking over at Obi-Wan thoughtfully.

"A mind healer the boy will need, yes," Yoda responded, "and much time, before well again he is."

"I'm sure that when Obi-Wan awakens he will need someone he knows there for him," Healer Omas said, "Is his master still waiting near the reception desk?"

"Sent him to eat and rest I did." Yoda told the healer, "Clear his own mind Qui-Gon must before Obi-Wan he can help. Watch over Obi-Wan I will until Qui-Gon returns."

The healer nodded. "If you need anything, just contact me on my com. If there are any changes in Obi-Wan's condition, the healer on call will be notified automatically." He motioned to the small machine attached to the side of the bed, connected to two pads, one at the base of his skull, and the other on Obi-Wan's neck, monitoring his pulse. He then turned to the door, leaving Yoda and Obi-Wan alone in the silence of the room.

Yoda focused his attention on Obi-Wan, watching his chest rise and fall lightly, and just barely too quickly for him to be sleeping peacefully. His face was emotionless, but his aura bore telltale signs of depression and pain, practically broadcasting them, despite his state of consciousness and weak body.

Yoda sent reassuring waves of the force washing over the boy; they were all that Yoda could do to help the boy at the moment, though it was truly not much. It would

need to be Qui-Gon who would work through this with Obi-Wan, only someone who shared a bond with him could truly help the boy heal. Going to a mind healer, like he had suggested to Healer Omas, might help Obi-Wan work through some important issues at first, but to go deeper, it needed to be Qui-Gon.

Yoda sighed, feeling Obi-Wan's aura calm slightly. This would be a challenge for both Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon.

* * *

There were noises, people talking, though he could not make sense of their words, and a dim light that he could feel through his closed eyelids. Obi-Wan furrowed his brow, not yet opening his eyes as his mind and body slowly awoke.

'What time is it?' was the first thing that he thought, wondering why the lights would be on in his room; perhaps he had overslept, or maybe it was Saturday and he had no morning classes? He was not used to being so disoriented when he awoke, but he was having a hard time emerging from the fog of sleep and the remnants of what he had dreamt. And the he remembered.

Blinking open his eyes, he slowly took in his surroundings; white walls, white sheets, not his pillow, and the all too familiar smell of antiseptic and bacta. He was in the infirmary.

He closed his eyes again. How could he be here? What could he have possibly done wrong? No one should have found him; he had left himself more than enough time to bleed to death and he knew it.

He shifted his head, and looked down at his arms; they were bandaged at his side. Disappointment overwhelmed him, and he almost laughed at himself. 'Good job Kenobi,' he though to himself, 'you're too much of a screw up to even end it properly.' He clenched his left hand into a fist; his whole arm ached at even this simple movement, in fact, now that he thought about it, his entire body felt heavy and sluggish.

"Much you have slept, young one," said a familiar voice from the side of the bed, "worried many are for your health."

Obi-Wan shifted his gaze to focus on the source of the voice. It took him longer than it should have to focus his eyes, but the green spot in his vision slowly morphed into Master Yoda, who was watching him intently. They held eye-contact for a moment, but Obi-Wan quickly broke away his gaze. There was something that looked too much like pity the Master's eyes, and Obi-Wan couldn't stand it.

He turned his head so that it was facing the opposite wall, saying nothing. Yoda continued to scrutinize the boy despite the fact that Obi-Wan's back was turned.

"Visitors, you have had," Yoda said, "Bant and Garen until their classes began were here. Very upset they were. If forced by the healers to leave they had not been, stayed and skipped their classes they would have, to wait for you to wake up."

Obi-Wan flinched internally at that. So now his friends knew how weak and pathetic he really was. He wondered again who found him. He supposed that it must have been his Master. Perhaps he had returned to their quarters early. He should have jammed the door to his room; it might have bought him some more time.

Though he was glad that he didn't have to face his Master yet, Obi-Wan wondered where he was. He knew that when Garen had gotten a blaster bolt to the leg after a mission a few weeks ago, his master practically hadn't left the infirmary the entire time he was there. He knew he shouldn't kid with himself though, Qui-Gon had never really cared for him.

Yoda seemed to sense his curiosity about the whereabouts of his master, because the elderly master answered his unspoken question.

"In the dining hall your master is," Yoda said, "Asleep for nearly 20 hours you were, not eaten since yesterday he had."

It did not escape Obi-Wan that Master Yoda had not revealed whether Qui-Gon had been in the infirmary to visit him. Obi-Wan thought that the elderly master must be trying not to upset him, but it didn't matter what he said, Obi-Wan knew how his master felt about him.

'Pathetic' Obi-Wan thought to himself as he let out a half sob. 'That's what you are, and at this rate the whole Temple will know it.'

Another sob escaped Obi-Wan, who brought his hands up to cover his face as tears began to roll down his cheeks. It had been longer than he could remember since he had cried, but here he was, sobbing like a youngling who had scraped a knee, and in front of a council member nonetheless.

Despite the shame of this blatant and uncontrolled show of emotion, Obi-Wan found that he just didn't care. Why would it be worth caring? How could he ever recover from the shame and stigma of his attempted suicide?

Obi-Wan found that he was just too physically and emotionally exhausted to even try to control himself. As he sobbed, he could feel the moisture of his tears being soaked up by the pristinely white bandages on his arms, which were wrapped all the way down to his palms.

Yoda sat in the chair from which he had barely moved, his brow deeply furrowed. It was disturbing to see a padawan so... broken. It was going to be a long road to recovery for this young one.

The machine monitoring Obi-Wan's vitals had begun emitting pulses of a gentle red light; Obi-Wan's crying had slightly spiked his heart rate. A healer arrived quickly in response.

When the healer, the same young Mon Calamari who had arrived helped transport Obi-Wan to the infirmary the day before, appeared in the doorway, he was obviously worried. Though he seemed surprised to see Obi-Wan awake and crying, it quickly faded to relief and sympathy. All of the healers on call had been worried that Obi-Wan would crash; knowing that he was awake and fully stable would have put him at ease, except for the obvious fact that for this boy, his healing had just begun.

The healer sent a brief, questioning look towards Yoda, who nodded for him to continue. The healer made his way to Obi-Wan's bedside, and after quickly scanning over the readouts on the monitor, kneeled down by the edge of the bed.

"Padawan Kenobi?" he said, looking for some acknowledgment that Obi-Wan had heard him. He received none, but continued anyway. "I'm going to need to ask you a few questions."

Obi-Wan still did not respond to the healer. He remained lying on his back, arms folded over his face, his knees bent, so that he was pulled into a half fetal position. Though his sobs had subsided, his breathing was still ragged and his shoulders occasionally shook.

"I need you to tell me if you feel any sharp pains," the healer said, hoping that Obi-Wan would cooperate, looking for any verbal or non-verbal response. Obi-Wan slowly shook his head.

"Alright," the healer said, obviously uncomfortable with hassling the boy, "I'm going to tell reception to notify your master and Healer Omas, and then I'm going to come back to check your vision, and reflexes, alright?"

Obi-Wan drew in a deep, shuddering breath, and then nodded from under the cover of his arms, not wishing to reveal the tear-tracks, signs of his weakness and hysteria, to yet another person, yet knowing that not responding at all would simply be childing, and make the healer's job unnecessarily hard.

The healer left swiftly, leaving Yoda and Obi-Wan again. Obi-Wan let his left arm fall back down to his side, and laid his right arm across his chest. His head fell to the side to face away from the door and away from Master Yoda. He just wanted to be alone.

What he would give to have not woken up. The last thing that he wanted was to be the center of everyone's attention as they poked and prodded at him, asking him where it hurt. It hurt everywhere; his entire being ached, but there was nothing that the healers could do about it.

Yoda was glad to see the boy awake. Qui-Gon had returned to Obi-Wan's bedside a few hours after Yoda had first arrived, and had stood vigil over the boy until the next morning, when Yoda had come to relieve him of his post. He had spent the morning in light meditation, sending calming waves over the boy as he slept.

Now that he was awake, the pain in his aura had increased exponentially, and Yoda doubled his efforts to calm the boy with the force.

True to his word, the young Mon Calamari, returned, and performed a fairly routine checkup on Obi-Wan, who complied with the healer's instructions silently.

As he was just finishing up, Healer Omas arrived and entered the room.

"Good afternoon," he said, "Obi-Wan, your master is on his way here as we speak."

Obi-Wan was now sitting propped up against the headboard of the bed, and sat in silence. He was not really listening to the conversation that ensued as the two healers discussed his condition quietly on the side of the room, Yoda listening intently. After they finished talking, the younger healer left, and the elderly Twi'lek approached Obi-Wan's bed.

"Obi-Wan," he said, "I'm going to check your wounds and change your bandages."

This healer was much more self confident than the young Mon Cal, moving with purpose as he pulled up a chair next to the bed and took new bandages and bacta strips out of his medical kit. Sitting down, he gently took hold of Obi-Wan's left arm, and slowly began unwrapping the gauzy bandages.

Obi-Wan, who had not looked up from his lap since the healer entered, finally lifted his head to watch as the healer unwrapped farther and farther up his arm, revealing the bacta strips which they had been compressing against his wounds lying on his arm, tinged slightly from the blood that had soaked through in places.

Obi-Wan's heart began to beat faster; it was going against every instinct he had to let this man uncover his wounds. He had spent so long covering them and hiding them that it had become second nature to him, and displaying them just seemed wrong. He tried to calm himself, he knew that at this point, any attempt to hide the slits on his arms would be useless, but to no avail.

Just as the healer was about to lift the first strip of bacta off of his forearm, Obi-Wan yanked his arm out of the healer's grip, clutching it to his chest. Surprised, the healer looked to Obi-Wan; he had not realized how upset the padawan had become.

"Obi-Wan," he said firmly, but not harshly, "I know that this is upsetting, but I do need to change put on new bacta strips and check for infection; we all want to help you heal, there is no one in this infirmary who will gawk at you or think unkindly of you, please let me help you."

Obi-Wan reluctantly complied, letting the healer pull his arm away from his chest. Again, when the healer went to remove the first strip of bacta, Obi-Wan pulled back his arm slightly, as though flinching; however, the Twi'lek now had a firmer grip on his arm, and kept it steady. Obi-Wan simply looked away, so ashamed of the angry scars that we knew the healer and Yoda both were now examining.

Though the healer was quick, rewrapping the bandages on Obi-Wan's arm with speed and efficiency, but to Obi-Wan, it seemed like his scars had been exposed for much too long. Just as the healer was beginning to remove the old bacta strips from his right arm, Obi-Wan heard someone enter the room.

He was about to yank his arma away from the healer again, wanting, at the very least, for he number of people who saw his marks to stay as small as possible, when Obi-Wan turned, and found that it was Qui-Gon. His master, stood in the doorway, face impassive; though his eyes had automatically settled on Obi-Wan's exposed arm, he quickly shifted his gaze away, to Obi-Wan's face.

"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said in greeting. Though there were many emotions running through him, the sea of guilt, incomprehension, and fear was largely dominated by the relief that swept through him, seeing his padawan finally awake.

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Thanks for reading! I hope you're enjoying it so far. Please Review! All constructive criticism is greatly appreciated.


	5. Chapter 5

Qui-Gon stood in the doorway, his eyes meeting Obi-Wan's for only a fleeting second before the latter turned away his gaze. Obi-Wan's head dropped, his eyes staring fixedly at his lap as the healer quickly examined, then re-bandaged his arm.

Obi-Wan's cheeks and neck were slightly flushed. Qui-Gon noted this, pleased to think that Obi-Wan's color looked much healthier than it had the last time he saw him. In truth however, Obi-Wan was red with shame and embarrassment at the unveiling of his wounds to his master.

"Obi-Wan's arms are healing quite well," healer Omas said, breaking the silence that had fallen in the room, "However, his blood pressure is still dangerously low, so we'd like to keep him here overnight. When he is discharged, he will need to take it easy and drink lots of fluids."

"That is good news," said Qui-Gon said responded, " I can't thank you enough for excellent care of my padawan."

Qui-Gon bowed deeply to the Twi'lek as he rose from Obi-Wan's bedside. Healer Omas returned the gesture, before reminding Qui-Gon that were he to need anything at all, he had only to contact him, then leaving the room.

"Here that you are now, Master Jinn," Yoda said, hopping off of the chair, "Leave now I must. Duties I have, and any things to ponder."

"Glad that you are awake, I am young padawan," Yoda said, turning to Obi-Wan, "Happy as well your friends will be, hhmmm?"

Obi-Wan flinched at that; he hated thinking of what his friends must think of him. He could easily visualize Bant by his bedside, fraught with worry, even crying for him. It was something that he had only half occurred to him when he had decided to just let himself bleed, ending his life, but he had never once thought that he would have to face her, and explain his actions—which he knew that she would take very personally—to her.

He thought that Yoda must have been trying to exaggerate Garen's reaction though. Garen was a friend, yes, but Obi-Wan knew he had other friends, friends who were his age and were more talented and interesting; Obi-Wan was sure that if he had succeeded in taking his life, Garen would have easily gotten over it.

Yoda turned and left the room, sending Qui-Gon a meaningful glance as he left.

Now alone in the room with his padawan, Qui-Gon moved to the edge of the bed, and kneeled down, putting himself at eye level with Obi-Wan as one might when speaking to a young child.

"Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon said, hoping for a response but receiving none; Obi-Wan made no sign of having heard the Jedi Master.

"Padawan," he tried again, this time beseeching Obi-Wan to acknowledge him in some way. Qui-Gon leaned forward, trying to make eye contact with his apprentice, who merely turned his head away. "I know that you don't want to speak to anyone, but please, Obi-Wan, just let me in; let me help you. We can work through this; there are others in this temple who have struggled with depression, and they have overcome it, but they didn't do it alone."

Though Obi-Wan still refused to even look at Qui-Gon, moisture was beginning to gather at the corners of his eyes. Qui-Gon reached out to lay his hand on Obi-Wan's as a gesture of support, but as soon as he touched it, Obi-Wan snatched it away.

"Please," Obi-Wan, said, his voice slightly raspy, his throat dry, and his vocal chords out of use, "Just don't touch me. Just leave me alone."

The second sentence was barely a whisper. Obi-Wan was now running his right hand up and down his bandaged left arm.

Obi-Wan's childish, disrespectful reaction to him caused frustration to momentarily flare up in Qui-Gon, but he quickly quelled it, taking in a calming breath. He knew that Obi-Wan was still recovering physically; perhaps now was not the time to try to address his emotional wounds.

Qui-Gon moved back from Obi-Wan, giving him some space as he had requested, and sat down in the chair next to the bed that Yoda had recently vacated. He took another breath to calm himself, and looked back at his padawan.

Obi-Wan was so pale, the blood loss having drained away his health. There were dark circles framing his eyes, which seemed duller than the determined, striking blue that they had been when Qui-Gon first met Obi-Wan as an initiate.

Anything that Qui-Gon could not tell simply from Obi-Wan's face, he could read easily in his aura; there was great sadness there, but what scared Qui-Gon was that the boy had quite simply given up, he just didn't seem to care. When had this happened to his padawan?

There was a long pause.

"I know you must still be tired, and that's alright," Qui-Gon said, "But we will talk about this, if not now, then once you've healed. As your master, I promise I will help you through this."

"As my master?" Obi-Wan said, his voice barely above a whisper, but with an undeniable bite of contempt, "Because, you must? Because it is your duty?"

Obi-Wan finally turned to face Qui-Gon, this time he was the one searching to meet eyes with the other Jedi.

"You never really cared," Obi-Wan said, when their eyes met, "you didn't even want me as an apprentice."

At this, Obi-Wan half-laughed, half-sobbed.

"I'm sorry that I was never good enough for the great Qui-Gon Jinn," said Obi-Wan, who now seemed to be somewhere between anger and tears.

Qui-Gon wasn't sure how to respond to this; in any other situation he would have scolded Obi-Wan for his insolence, but this wasn't any other situation. Qui-Gon bowed his head.

"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said, "It's true that at first, I did not think that I should take on an apprentice, but on Bandomeer it became clear to me that the it was the will of the force that I become your master."

This was not truly a response to the matters that Obi-Wan had brought up, but neither spoke in response. Qui-Gon had spent the past day in meditation, preparing to face Obi-Wan, determined to help him recover, but the one thing he was not prepared to do for his padawan was lie.

Obi-Wan was absolutely right, he had never wanted to take Obi-Wan as his apprentice, not after Xanatos. As a Jedi, a servant of the force, it had been evident to him that the force willed him to train Obi-Wan, and he would not deny the force.

He had never really connected with Obi-Wan, as was painfully obvious through their underdeveloped bond, but he had never been regretful of taking the boy as his apprentice. The boy was talented, strong in the force; Qui-Gon had always told himself that all that Obi-Wan needed was a good teacher, but perhaps he had been wrong.

Perhaps what Obi-Wan needed was what he had given Xanatos; love and friendship.

Or perhaps Qui-Gon was simply not a capable teacher. Qui-Gon sighed, he had lost one padawan lost to the darkside because of his blind love, and now he had almost lost another because he had been too distant, too cold.

'What a fine line we Jedi walk,' Qui-Gon thought to himself as Obi-Wan turned over in the bed, lying on his side facing away from his master and feigning sleep.

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Hey everyone, thank you so much for reading; I really hope that you are enjoying it. I'm really glad to have been able to put out so many chapters all at once lately, but unfortunately, in the coming week, I will have less time to write so I'll be posting less often (I don't would rather put out less, better quality chapters than put out a bunch of short, shitty ones, I hope you agree).Also, in the following month, I will not have internet access, so I won't be able to post . I'll do my best to keep posting as regularly as possible up until then and when I come back. May the force be with you all this summer ;D

Please review!


	6. Chapter 6

Hey guys, thanks for reading/reviewing! I know that this story has been _very _slow moving up to this point, so I'm doing my best to move it along (thanks for the very honest/helpful review, Blueberry).

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The rest of the afternoon passed without incident. Bant had dropped by after he lessons to see Obi-Wan, but when she arrived, he was asleep. She had sat next to his bedside for a while, hoping that he would wake up, but after half an hour, she had left reluctantly to go to a guided meditation session.

A sense of unease and restlessness had descended over Qui-Gon as the afternoon dragged into evening. He alternated between walking through the Temple halls, meditating, and watching over his padawan, but he could not seem to do any one thing for very long.

When it reached the late evening, the young female Jedi who was in charge of the reception desk of the infirmary told Qui-Gon that normal visiting hours were over, and that though he could stay overnight in Obi-Wan's ward if he really wished to, she strongly encouraged him to go back to his quarters and get a good night's rest. Qui-Gon complied, heading back to his and Obi-Wan's shared quarters, which felt eerily empty.

Neither Qui-Gon nor Obi-Wan slept well that night. Qui-Gon found that he was unable to sleep, so he opted for a long shower and then meditated instead. Obi-Wan, who had slept for the greater part of the day, woke in the middle of the night and found that he was no longer tired; he spent the rest of the night staring off into the darkness of the room.

When morning came, Healer Omas gave Obi-Wan one more quick physical to make sure that he was indeed well enough to be discharged into his master's care.

When he was done examining Obi-Wan, he summoned Qui-Gon, who arrived just in time to sign the discharge forms that Healer Omas had filled out for him.

During his meditation the night before, Qui-Gon had faced his anxiety head on and released it into the force, but this did not keep him from being acutely aware of the fluctuations in Obi-Wan's aura; he did not want to upset the boy because of a careless action or comment (like the day before, when he had touched Obi-Wan's bandaged arm).

Qui-Gon was pleased that Obi-Wan seemed to be doing slightly better than he had been the day before; he looked less pale, more well rested, and most importantly of all, he was much more responsive to those around him.

When the healer had spoken to him, he had turned his head towards him as a gesture of attention, and when Qui-Gon bid him good morning when he arrived, he had responded, with "Good morning, Master." Though it was not a particularly enthusiastic greeting, it was by far preferable to how removed and distant he had been the day before.

They had left the ward, and were now in the reception area where Qui-Gon had spent his time the day before, waiting, not knowing whether or not his padawan's life could be saved. They had finalized Obi-Wan's discharge with the Jedi stationed at the desk, but before they could leave, Healer Omas asked Qui-Gon if he could speak to him for a moment, pulling him outside of the room, to an office—presumably his—just around a bend in the hall.

"Qui-Gon, after Yoda left you and your padawan yesterday afternoon, we were discussing what would be the most wise course of action, and we came to the agreement that Obi-Wan should not only see a mind healer, but go through a series of meditation exercises with another Jedi Master as well."

"What do you mean, 'with another master?'" Qui-Gon asked under his breath, shocked at the implications of this statement, "When was it decided that that Obi-Wan's apprenticeship under my care would be dissolved, and without my knowledge or consent?"

Qui-Gon had not been expecting this, nor would he have expected himself to have such an adverse reaction to the news. While his outward appearance remained calm, he was fighting to keep the shock, and—even he was surprised to find—fear from leaking past his shields.

"No, you misunderstand," said Healer Omas calmly, who seemed to have caught on to Qui-Gon's indignation, "You are to remain Obi-Wan's master, it is simply that Yoda has consulted with other council members and with myself, and we think that perhaps a different approach at meditation and controlling one's emotions would be healthy for your padawan."

"Who was it that the council had in mind?" asked Qui-Gon with a sigh; despite his defiance of the council in the past, he knew that now was not the time for a quarrel.

"There was no general consensus in regard to that, but Master Windu has stepped forward. He recently returned from a mission and will be onworld for the next few months at least. He asked me to tell you to contact him when you next have the chance."

Qui-Gon released a breath that he didn't know he had been holding; at least the master who would be teaching Obi-Wan was someone whom he knew and trusted. Mace had long been a friend of his, and though they had their disagreements, there had never been any hard feelings between the two.

After giving Qui-Gon the information for Obi-Wan's scheduled visits with one of the Temple's mind healers, they returned to the reception area. Qui-Gon had been shaken by the conversation; he had not realized that the council might choose to strip him of his padawan, which was a threatening, and shameful possibility that now seemed more real, despite the fact that an old friend of his would be assuming the responsibility of assisting his padawan.

As they approached, Obi-Wan dutifully rose from the chair in which he had been seated. When they reached the door of the infirmary, Qui-Gon turned to face the Twi'lek healer, and bowed deeply.

"I can truly not thank you enough for your treatment and care of my padawan, your actions will not soon be forgotten."

Qui-Gon looked to his left, to see that Obi-Wan had also bowed to the healer, though his eyes remained fixed on the ground and he said nothing, even when Healer Omas parted, saying "May the force be with you both," and heading back into the infirmary.

Walking back to their quarters, Qui-Gon took a much slower pace than he would have ordinarily walked so as not to exert Obi-Wan. He found that this made the silence between them even more uncomfortable. When they reached their quarters, Obi-Wan seemed to hesitate at the entrance, though after a moment, he followed Qui-Gon inside.

Qui-Gon immediately went to their small kitchen to boil some water for tea, getting out two mugs and setting them on the counter. He called out to Obi-Wan, asking him what he would like though he was normally content with whatever Qui-Gon was having. When he didn't receive a response, he looked out into their living space to see if the boy was there, then, seeing that he was not, he headed towards Obi-Wan's room.

After rounding the corner, he found that Obi-Wan was not in his room. Rather, he was standing in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe, staring into the chamber. It immediately dawned on Qui-Gon that he should have expected Obi-Wan to react to returning to the place where he had tried to end his life just days before.

Qui-Gon reached out to Obi-Wan through the force, sending reassurance and tranquility in waves. He was pleasantly surprised to find that Obi-Wan did not put up any shields against him, nor did he shy away when Qui-Gon proceeded to place his hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder.

"Are you alright?" Qui-Gon asked, almost in a whisper, as though afraid that any loud noise would shatter his young padawan.

"Yes…" Obi-Wan said after a moment's pause, "I suppose I didn't ever think that I would be back here. It looks as though nothing had ever happened."

Obi-Wan spoke slowly and deliberately, and Qui-Gon could almost see the thoughts churning through Obi-Wan's head as he spoke. Obi-Wan's eyes passed over the room; it was impeccably clean though the dresser, his bed, and his desk—including the holos of spacecrafts he had arranged on it—were exactly as they had been before, nothing had been moved. His eyes rested on the carpet, searching for some sort of evidence of what had transpired; he had expected some traces of blood (which he knew from experience was quite hard to get out of fabrics) to remain, perhaps a tactfully hidden from view with a rug, or rearranged furniture, but he found that the carpet was pristinely beige and entirely uniform in it's color. He wondered whether they had replaced it, or if a crew of cleaning droids had simply attacked it with chemical cleaners until the last traces were gone.

It reminded him of when he had first moved into the room, so excited and hopeful as he was. It seemed so long ago. Obi-Wan wondered if some other newly minted padawan would have been moving into the room now if he had succeeded.

"I'm making tea, if you would like some, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said, successfully puling Obi-Wan out of his trance-like scrutiny of the room.

"That sounds good," Obi-Wan said, still slightly absent-minded as they headed back to the living area.

"What would you like?" Qui-Gon asked, once again in the kitchen.

"Whatever you're having is fine," Obi-Wan responded automatically.

Qui-Gon was now truly curious; he realized that he in fact had no idea what Obi-Wan even liked, as he had always let Qui-Gon decide.

"I haven't decided yet," Qui-Gon responded, though it wasn't entirely truthful, as he had always preferred black teas, "We have chamomile, topi, tareen, masala chai..."

He read off all of the labels on the various boxes stashed in the cupboard. He had amassed quite a selection over the years; he rarely bought anything other than black tea, but he had often received different varieties of tea as gifts, which lay at the back of the cupboard unopened.

"Chai would be nice," Obi-Wan responded once Qui-Gon had finished speaking.

"Milk and sugar?"

"Just milk."

Qui-Gon stood at the counter fixing their two mugs of tea. He wouldn't have guessed that Obi-Wan was a fan of spiced tea. At this thought he smiled to himself, though it was a very small step to forming a better relationship with his padawan, he supposed that it was a good place to start.

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	7. Chapter 7

After finishing their tea, Qui-Gon broke the more or less comfortable silence that had fallen and asked Obi-Wan if he would join him in meditation. Qui-Gon had not been surprised when Obi-Wan respectfully declined, opting for a shower instead.

Though of course Qui-Gon would not stop his padawan from doing something as simple as showering, it still made him uneasy to let Obi-Wan be alone in a room with a locked door. Though he knew that he could use the force to unlock the door if he thought something was going on, and that though the water would make it hard to hear any other noises from inside, their bond (as feeble as it would) would alert Qui-Gon if anything were to happen to his padawan in the next room over. The fear was irrational, yet it was there nonetheless.

That morning, Qui-Gon had removed anything he thought that Obi-Wan could use to hurt himself from the apartment. The razors that he used for shaving, the kitchen knives, even a small glass vase that had been on their bookshelf, which Qui-Gon reasoned could be easily broken into shards, had all been gathered and put in a small locked drawer in the desk in Qui-Gon's room. He knew that Obi-Wan had probably already noticed the precautions he had taken and hoped that he did not feel alienated by them.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Obi-Wan stepped into the fresher and the door slid shut behind him. He paused in thought for a moment before locking the door. If Qui-Gon really felt he needed to, he could easily open it, Obi-Wan just hoped that his master would respect his desire for privacy.

He kicked off his boots, then unfastened his tunic, letting it slide to the floor. He then proceeded to slowly unwrap the bandages on his arms. He was used to seeing his bare, scarred arms, and had often had to cope with the pain of the stinging hot water on his wounds, but it had never been the tenderly and skillfully wrapped bandages of a healer that he had removed.

After peeling off the bacta strips underneath the bandages, he climbed into the shower and turned on the water.

It had been too long since Obi-Wan had been able to relax under the hot streams of water that now engulfed him.

He breathed a sigh of contentment and relief. Not only did the hot water feel incredibly good, but he was also glad to be alone for the first time in days. While he had been in the infirmary, it seemed as though there was always someone there watching him, observing him like an animal in captivity, or some kind of science experiment.

He had felt incredibly naked in under the gaze of Yoda and the various healers that had been assigned to check in on him periodically. Not only had they seen the physical evidence of his depression, but he had been much too exhausted to put up shields of any sort.

His mind, the most intimate part of himself, had been laid bare to them all. He just hoped that Bant and Garen hadn't felt his emotions when they had visited; he wasn't sure how much they would have been able to pick up while he was sleeping.

'How pathetic, broadcasting yourself like that,' he thought to himself, leaning his head against the shower wall, 'you couldn't even put up elementary shields, it's a miracle they let you leave the infirmary at all; they must think you are a complete nutcase.'

Pathetic. Failure. He ran his hand over the marred flesh of his left arm where he had carved that word only days ago. It had almost completely healed; only the lightest of marks hinted at its presence, which was almost entirely lost among the maze of raised scars it had been layered on top of.

This was why he had stopped using bacta. He liked the presence of a physical reminder of his self-castigation.

He retraced the fading marks with his fingertips but the feather light touch just emphasized his urge to gouge out the markings again. He had immediately noticed the absence of the razor on the shelf where Qui-Gon usually kept it as he had been expecting it, but it still frustrated him to no end.

He let his fingernails digs into his arm for the briefest moment before releasing his grip; he was sure that Qui-Gon would be periodically checking his arms, and he didn't want to cause any more trouble for himself.

Qui-Gon thought he had felt a surge of pain and anxiety through their bond; he was relieved when moments later, he heard the water being shut off and Obi-Wan stepping out of the fresher. He let out a slow breath, releasing some of his disquiet into the force, yet much of his unease remained. How long would it be until he could trust Obi-Wan again?

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon both spent the remainder of the day in the apartment. Despite the turmoil of the past few days, the world had continued on around them. Though teachers were used to students missing classes because of missions, it did not mean that work could be simply ignored; Obi-Wan found that he had a paper, and quite lengthy problem set to do, among other things, though he did have until the end of the beginning of the next week, when he would return to classes, to finish them.

To Qui-Gon's relief, it was standard procedure for the infirmary to automatically excuse any absences from classes and request instructions for make up work for sick or injured padawans and initiates. Qui-Gon would not have enjoyed explaining Obi-Wan's predicament to each one of his teachers as he had enough trouble facing it himself.

Qui-Gon considered asking Obi-Wan to meditate with him once again, but he decided that it would be best for Obi-Wan to approach him on his own, rather than being pressured into the situation before he was ready to explore his emotions with his master.

Not wanting to leave Obi-Wan alone in the apartment, went to the kitchen to prepare them a light dinner. They didn't have all that much by way of food; the only meal that they regularly ate in their quarters was breakfast, for lunch and dinner they usually ate in the refectory.

After finding a package of noodles and some dehydrated vegetables, he got to work. It was a simple meal to prepare, and Qui-Gon found that he had forgotten just how cathartic cooking could be.

As he waited for the meal to cook, he got out his comlink and called Mace Windu as Healer Omas had requested.

After waiting for only a moment, he heard Mace pick up on the other end.

"Good evening Qui-Gon, I've been expecting your call."

"Yes, I hope I'm not interrupting your evening meal?"

"No, and even if you were it would be no problem, it's been to long since we last spoke," said Mace, amicably.

"It has," Qui-Gon said with a small smile, "They work you too hard on the council, I don't know how you keep up with your duties, let alone your friends."

Mace chuckled at this comment, and after a pause spoke again.

"How is Obi-Wan."

The shift in the tone of Mace's voice alerted Qui-Gon that the conversation had now shifted from one between friends, to one between a Jedi Master, and a Council member.

"I'm honestly not sure," Qui-Gon let out an audible breath, "He's been keeping to himself mostly."

"What have you felt though your bond?"

"Not much," Qui-Gon said, "A couple surges of anxiety, but other than that nothing."

There was a pause, and though Qui-Gon wanted to say that he didn't want to breach Obi-Wan's privacy, he realized that he would only be hurting Obi-Wan if he did not come clean to Mace about the state of their bond.

"Our bond is incredibly weak. We are not even near the point of being able to communicate words."

He expected Mace to throw a barrage of questions at him at this point, or at least to exclaim his disbelief that their bond , one of the most basic and vital parts of a master-padawan relationship, had barely progressed even after having Obi-Wan as his padawan for so long, but when Mace did not, he realized that he had probably suspected this already.

"I'm available in the late morning every day this week, when do you think Obi-Wan would be ready to begin meditation sessions?"

Qui-Gon and Mace spent a few more minutes working out the logistics of Mace and Obi-Wan's meeting, Qui-Gon bid Mace a good evening, and switched off the comlink. Qui-Gon was incredibly glad that Mace would also be working with Obi-Wan in the coming weeks.

Though Qui-Gon was not keen on admitting it, he knew that the distance that he had maintained from his padawan had been part of what had caused Obi-Wan to be lost to despair. He thought that perhaps working with another Jedi, someone he did not associate with the past, would help him open up and heal.

Taking in a breath, he though he smelled something funny, and after a moment realized that he had left the stove on during his conversation with Mace. Rushing over to the stove, he quickly turned it off, glad to see that though some of the vegetables in the pan were horribly burned, most of them were salvageable, and only slightly blackened on the edges. Maybe his culinary skills were a bit more rusty tan he had thought.

'Well,' he though to himself, 'I guess that tomorrow we should probably eat in the refectory.'

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter; remember to leave a review!


	8. Chapter 8

Though to stranger, or a non-force sensitive observer it would have appeared to be normal and as though Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon were simply going about their business, the tension between them was almost tangible.

Qui-Gon had no idea how to go about interacting with his padawan; he wasn't sure how much time he should give Obi-Wan to himself, or whether he should not let Obi-Wan out of his sight and try to talk to him immediately.

Though Obi-Wan had been resting for days on end, his mind was scattered, and he found himself unable to focus on anything. He knew he needed to complete his work, and that he should meditate, but all of his attempts to calm his mind had failed utterly.

Unable to make any real progress in his work, he found himself puttering around their quarters, making tea, reorganizing his desk, browsing through a list of holobooks…

He felt out of control. As he sat down at his (recently cleaned and reorganized) desk once again, his fists clenched with the restless energy that coursed through him. What a mess; to his dismay, his attempts at organizing and controlling his surroundings were obviously having no similar effect on his mental state. If only it were that easy, he couldn't bring himself to face his own mind, so full of chaos and rampant emotion.

The shame of his situation, which had been ever present lingering under the surface of his thoughts, now flared up and washed over him. He could feel the color rising to his cheeks and scowled further. Had he no control? Where was the mask of serenity that all Jedi sported?

After spending what seemed like the lengthiest 10 minutes of his life reading a text on the history of the Galactic Senate, he got up again and walked to the kitchen. It was a bit early for lunch, but he needed something to do with himself. He was relieved to find that Qui-Gon was currently in his room, apparently in meditation. He couldn't bear to face his master. He knew that Qui-Gon wanted him to talk about his feelings, but how could he possibly talk about something so personal and so shameful with Qui-Gon Jinn, his teacher and role-model, when he couldn't even face to examine his feelings himself in private meditation?

He was startled out of his thoughts and his sandwich-making when he heard the door chime. He stood still for a moment, listening for any signs of movement from Qui-Gon's room, but when he determined that his master was not moving to answer the door, Obi-Wan reluctantly went himself.

He paused again when he reached the door, but knew it would be impolite to keep whoever was there waiting, especially if it happened to be a master, so he took in a breath, stood up straight, and palmed open the door.

Obi-Wan was surprised to find Bant standing nervously in the hall. Her eyes shone with worry; she stood there for a moment, taking in the sight of her best friend, and as soon as she was certain that he was really standing there in front of her apparently in good health, she launched herself at him in a hug.

She latched onto him tightly, pinning his arms to his sides leaving him in an (unintentionally) awkward position, unable to really move. She began to talk at light speed.

"Obi! I've been so worried, everyone else too! I tried to see you sooner, but my master said that I should give you some time, and that even though they'd discharged you, you still wouldn't be completely better, but I've just been so worried, especially when you didn't meet us for dinner like normal, and didn't say anything and…" she paused to take a breath, and her voice slowed becoming very deliberate, almost mournful, "I missed you."

She held onto him for a moment longer before releasing him. Her concern was still written across her face, and Obi-Wan felt the full force of this emotion when their eyes met, though he quickly diverted his gaze to the floor.

Unable to think of something to say in response to this, he invited her in. He would have offered her something to eat, but he knew that she disliked eating early and would decline. He also knew that she hadn't come for small talk, and wouldn't just be brushed off, she was too stubborn for that.

The two headed towards Obi-Wan's room, as was the norm when Bant came over to their quarters. She used to come over quite often on evenings they both had free and they would watch holovids, talk, and joke together, but as time had progressed into Obi-Wan's apprenticeship with Qui-Gon, she had come over less and less. In fact, it had been weeks since Obi-Wan last invited her over, saying that he was just too busy and too tired to see his childhood friend.

Bant took a seat on the edge of Obi-Wan's bed, and Obi-Wan sat down next to her, though leaving a much larger gap between them than he normally did. Bant looked at him expectantly in the silence, wishing he would speak.

"I didn't expect to see you," Obi-Wan said, his eyes cast on the floor.

Though this probably wasn't really what Bant wanted to hear, at least it was the truth. Both Obi-Wan and Bant were well aware that he did not say that he was glad to see her.

He hadn't expected to see her at all; he thought that she would be too angry or ashamed by his actions to talk to him, or at the very least that she would be scared off by his 'emotional instability' and not approach him. Though he had been caught off guard by her visit, part of him was flooded with relief that she cared enough to come and see him.

"Of course I came to see you," Bant responded, "I would have come earlier if my Master Tahl hadn't insisted that I give you some time to recover."

Her eyes flitted to Obi-Wan's arms as she spoke, and Obi-Wan self consciously tugged down the sleeves of his tunic which he had pushed back slightly while he was in the kitchen, revealing part of his bandages. When Obi-Wan didn't respond to her, Bant went on.

"When you weren't at dinner, I just assumed that you had left on a mission with your master, and hadn't had any time to come say goodbye. But then, I saw your master there, without you. I guess I wouldn't have worried, but he really looked shaken, and I know that your master is usually very reserved," Bant said very quietly, "and so I asked Master Tahl about it."

There was a pause before Bant spoke again.

"When she looked into it, and told me what had happened…it was the last thing that I would have expected, that you would try to…" here Bant took in a shaky breath before hesitantly continuing, "_kill_ yourself."

At this point Obi-Wan looked up at Bant, who looked as if she was about to burst into tears. He had seen Bant cry before when they were much younger, and more recently, when she had been injured while sparring, but it was not with such grief, and Obi-Wan felt a pang of guilt, knowing that he was the cause of her anguish.

He scooted towards her on the bed and put a hand on her shoulder as a tear slid down her cheek. He was about to speak, to comfort her, to fervently apologize to her, to ask her to please forgive him and to please not cry for him, he wasn't worth it, but Bant spoke up before he could.

"I'm so sorry Obi-Wan," she said, now crying in earnest, "I don't know how I didn't see it. I must be such a bad friend that I wasn't even there for you when you needed someone."

"No, Bant," Obi-Wan responded, utterly astounded by Bant's reaction, "Please don't cry."

He had thought that she might feel abandoned, that she might be angry, or not want to deal with him, but it had never occurred to him that she would think it was her fault, or that she would be so deeply wounded, otherwise, he might have thought twice that day.

"It's not your fault," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Bant sobbed even harder and hugged her friend tightly. Obi-Wan returned the embrace, and felt a knot form in his throat as he held her. The beginnings of tears quivered at the edges of his eyes as he absorbed the feeling of being loved—of being _needed_—by someone.

* * *

Qui-Gon was roused from his meditation by a torrent of emotion from Obi-Wan's room. For a brief moment he panicked, and was about to rush into his padawan's room but he immediately realized that it was not his Obi-Wan, but his padawan's friend, Bant, whose emotion he was sensing.

Tahl had contacted him earlier, saying that her padawan, who had been quite distraught, would most likely come to see Obi-Wan today. Both masters had been uncertain and somewhat anxious about how Obi-Wan would react to seeing his friend, but Qui-Gon knew that Obi-Wan could not shut himself off from the world forever, and that it would be cruel to keep Bant from seeing her friend, so he had not protested.

Qui-Gon remained in a meditative pose as he observed the two young Jedi through the force.

Their emotion had such energy. It was in this moment that he realized how truly young his padawan still was.

Bant's emotion was entirely unrestrained as she cried. Though one might consider her conduct very immature and ill-suiting a young Jedi, Qui-Gon could feel that she was releasing all of her pent up anxiety and fear into the force through her tears. In a few years, or in a less extreme situation, Qui-Gon was sure that she would be able to sort through her emotions efficiently and effectively in meditation, but she was young and had almost lost a friend. Qui-Gon only wished that Obi-Wan could release all the negative emotion he was carrying with him into the force as well.

Qui-Gon could feel Obi-Wan's mental shields loosen the slightest bit. Even though he still held back his emotion, Qui-Gon knew that Bant's presence was helping him a great deal.

After a while, the sobs from the neighboring room stopped and the torrent of emotion in the force cleared. Though Qui-Gon could not hear from where he was, he could only assume that the two talked until Bant left nearly a half hour later, and he was pleased to know that Obi-Wan was finally opening up, if only a little bit.

Obi-Wan walked with Bant to the door. She had asked him if he wanted to come eat lunch with her in the refectory, but did not push him when he said that he didn't want to face the rest of the Temple quite yet, and still needed some time to himself.

She gave him one more brief hug before she left, much more lighthearted hat she had been when she came, though still somewhat forlorn. Obi-Wan was different; she had expected the sadness, but he was so much more guarded and distant than he used to be. She just hoped that in time she would have the old Obi-Wan back.

The door slid shut, and Obi-Wan headed back to his room, taking a seat on the bed where Bant had been, and letting himself fall backwards onto it.

For the entire time when Bant had been there, he had not let himself cry. He was just so used to hiding his emotion when he was around her, and it had taken all of his energy. Finally giving into his exhaustion, he lay down and let the tears fall.

They were not the same bitter tears of failure and regret he had shed upon regaining consciousness in the infirmary. These tears seemed to him a release, and as he lay there, he felt himself drifting off into sleep.

* * *

Hi everyone! I hope that you all enjoyed this chapter and that it was worth the wait. **Please review**; feedback is always appreciated. (If there is something that really bugs you, tell me, otherwise I won't be able to fix it, and if there is something that you love, tell me so that I can keep doing it.)

I believe that crying can be really theraputic, and I hope that that came across clearly in this chapter, and was not too far out of the norm of the Jedi for it to not be believable.


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